


302 found

by deeeepsteep_ (roguefreyja), Kylaroid



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Character Study, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Post-Canon, Shameless Smut, in the second chapter, rating will go up in the second chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23701171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roguefreyja/pseuds/deeeepsteep_, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kylaroid/pseuds/Kylaroid
Summary: Darlene exhales heavily, pursing her lips around the smoke. She doesn’t remember the last time she spent a holiday with family. The thought doesn’t hurt, necessarily, but it feels strange. Foreign. Stranger still because shelikesbeing here with Dom’s family. It’s warm and noisy and comfortable and good. Almost too good.
Relationships: Darlene Alderson/Dominique DiPierro
Comments: 7
Kudos: 70





	1. memory leak

Darlene waits—nerves rattled, her hands clammy and clutching a bouquet of white gardenias—as the doorbell chime rings throughout the house. She’s been to Trudie’s house plenty of times at this point. For dinners and lunches and little get-togethers. Hell, once she came over and Trudie taught her how to embroider while they watched episodes of Grace and Frankie. But today is different. For starters, it’s Christmas—the anniversary of a fucked up day for everyone involved. Not to mention that Dom’s whole extended family is congregated inside. As they wait for _somebody_ to answer the door, her thoughts wander—cycling through the day’s events leading up to this one nerve-wracking moment.

* * *

“Dude, are you seriously bringing those things?” Darlene asks incredulously—watching as Dom dumps a package of store-bought sugar cookies into a Tupperware container. 

“Yeah? I always bring these.” She mumbles, sealing the plastic container with a red lid. “Y’know, for my nephews and stuff.” Darlene rolls her eyes as she slides her arms through the sleeves of her coat. 

“Those cookies are fucking gross. They’re dry as shit and the frosting tastes like plastic.” She gripes back as she heads into Dom’s bathroom to double-check her hair and make-up. 

“Well, you don’t have to eat them.” Dom retorts as she digs through her handbag—making sure that everything she needs is inside. With her check complete, she picks it up by the handles and hoists it over her shoulder. As she adjusts it, a neat bouquet of flowers lying on the table catches her gaze. “Hey Darlene?” Dom calls, reaching out and picking up the flowers to inspect them closer. 

“What?” Darlene’s voice echoes from the bathroom, where she’s applying a second coating of mascara. Dom brings the soft white petals up to her face and inhales deeply. A clean nostalgic floral scent wafts through the air and pools into her lungs. She thinks for a long moment—trying to decipher the flower—and then lands on it. Gardenias. 

“Did you get these flowers?” Dom asks, although the answer is pretty obvious since she didn’t buy them herself and they certainly didn’t magically appear there. Still, the appearance of the bouquet is an enigma to her. Darlene has never been the type of girl to buy a bouquet of flowers. 

“Oh—uh—yeah. To bring to Trudie’s.” Darlene replies matter-of-factly. Dom’s eyes narrow for a moment—curiosity piqued even more now—but decides not to push for more details and sets the flowers down. A few moments later Darlene strolls out of the bathroom. She gives a final fuss of her hair and pats her outfit down—it’s as good as it’s going to get. She leans over and grabs their luggage off the floor, one bag in each hand. “Ready to go?” She asks, slinging one of the duffle bags over her shoulder. 

“Yup. And I got the perfect Faith Hill album picked out for the drive down.” Darlene groans audibly, despite knowing that Dom is only teasing. “Oh, come on, Breathe is a good album!” Dom retorts quickly with an amount of seriousness that makes Darlene nervous. _Now she’s desperately hoping that Dom’s just teasing_. The brunette walks over to the small table by the entrance and glances down pensively at the bouquet. Looks it over before delicately picking it up. Gardenias—are they fresh enough? Do they smell good enough? Shit, do gardenias have some kind of weird symbolic meaning that would be awkward to bring to your FBI agent girlfriend’s family’s Christmas party? 

“Hey—“ Darlene’s spiraling train of thought is disrupted by the sound of Dom’s voice. She’s back in the present, still anxiously clutching the bouquet. Her gaze snaps up to meet Dom’s—soft and tender. She doesn’t follow-up with words. Instead, Dom simply reaches down and tangles her fingers up in the soft hairs at the back of her neck. Darlene melts into the sentimental touch—closes her eyes and allows her nerves to settle against Dom’s steady fingers. When she opens her eyes again, Dom is still peering down at her. Dom tilts her head ever so slightly to the side, cocking it into a question. Darlene’s mouth raises into a half-hearted smile. Her chest rises—and with her exhale, the tension starts to leave her body. “You know—” Dom starts, breaking the silence again. “If you keep gripping those flowers that hard you’re going to break them.” 

Darlene rolls her eyes, but smiles despite herself—nudging Dom playfully with her elbow. “Shut up.” She snarks back with a breathy chuckle. A moment later their playful banter is interrupted by the sound of the front door swinging open. Trudie’s face lights up at the presence of the two women. She hops down the steps and swings both of her arms around their shoulders, pulling them into a tight embrace. 

“I’m so glad the two of you could make it! Ohhh, Merry Christmas, girls!” Darlene notes the warmth of her embrace—her chin settled in the crook of Trudie’s neck. A fruity floral scent pours into her lungs, and she wonders if that’s her shampoo, or if she wears perfume. Either way, Darlene decides that she likes the smell. It’s comforting, welcoming—the smell almost reminiscent of the perfume that Angela’s mom used to wear. After a moment, Trudie releases them, pulling back to take a good look at their faces.

“Oh, Darlene, you brought flowers!” She exclaims, tenderly taking them into her hands and bringing them up to her face to admire their fragrance. “Gardenias—these’ll be perfect for the table! Dom, remember when your aunt Jolene would come up from Florida in the summer? She’d always bring a bunch of gardenias from her garden.” Dom chuckles breathily, her hands buried deep in the pockets of her red wool coat.

“Yeah, you’d put those things everywhere. The smell stuck around the house for weeks afterwards.” Darlene watches Dom and Trudie as they reminisce—exchanging little details of what sounds like a completely normal and idyllic adolescence. Something that always seemed so intangible and unattainable to her. A moment later, their chatter is interrupted by a fuzzy yellow figure worming its way past Trudie’s legs. Darlene’s face eases—in fact—lights up at the appearance of the golden retriever. 

“Judy!” She cooes, bending down so that she’s eye-level with the dog. Her fingers run through the dog’s long wavy fur and settle behind her ears—giving them a good loving scratch. Judy’s tail wags happily in response to Darlene’s touch. The retriever has a markedly aged face, but looks as energetic and pleased as ever, lips peeled back into an open-mouthed smile and tongue hanging out just a little. After some more pets from Darlene, Judy leans forward and starts licking her face.

“Y’know, I swear, Darlene, when you come to visit Judy acts like a totally different dog.” Dom watches intently as Darlene fusses over the elderly dog—the tension melting from her face at Darlene’s carefree expression. “I haven’t seen her get this worked up since she was a puppy.”

“I think Judy and I understand each other pretty well.” Darlene hums, slowly standing up to her full height. Still a head or so shorter than Dom. 

“Oh where are my manners? Come in, come in—it is _freezing_ outside.” Trudie insists—one hand clutching the bouquet and the other leading Judy back inside by the collar. “I’ll find a nice vase to put these in. Why don’t you two girls take your bags up to Dom’s room?” The pair walk inside—knocking the snow off their shoes onto the front mat before removing them, and depositing their coats onto the overflowing coat hanger. 

“Oh, I, uh, brought these. For the kids, y’know?” Dom explains, extending out the plastic container. Trudie shuts the front door and releases Judy who is content to wander off to another room. The tags on her collar jingling as she trots across the hardwood floor.

“Oh, well, I’ll take these too! Thanks hon.” Trudie hums, taking the container of store-bought cookies and disappearing towards the kitchen.

“Come on, the bedroom is up this way.” Dom says, turning her focus back to Darlene before she trails up the staircase. The two of them have been over quite a few times for dinner, but Darlene has never ventured upstairs. For some reason, there’s a weight to the second floor—something intangible and untouchable. Sure, she could have snuck off to the bathroom and explored by herself. She’s thought about it a few times. But the idea of sneaking around Trudie’s house always makes her feel scummy and uneasy. As she ascends the staircase, it feels like she’s crossed some kind of threshold she didn’t entirely realize existed until _now_. Her eyes scan the hallway, lined with framed family photos. Lots of Dom and her mom, photos with Judy and what appears to be older family dogs, and two dark-haired boys—her brothers, Darlene presumes. The singular family photo Darlene keeps carries so much symbolic weight—more than anything else she’s ever owned. But to be presented with a whole wall of them—it leaves her with a peculiar, sentimental feeling that she can’t quite identify. 

Once they’ve reached the top of the staircase, they make their way down the hall—past what Darlene presumes is Trudie’s bedroom—and land at their lodgings for the night.

“Nice _digs_.” Darlene drawls as they enter Dom’s childhood bedroom. The redhead sets her luggage down in the corner near the bed and takes a seat—giving herself a moment to breathe. Darlene busies herself with looking around, wondering how much has stayed the same between now and when Dom was a teenager. The chintzy dragonfly art looks like it belongs in a dingy motel lobby, rather than Dom’s childhood bedroom.

“So this is where young Dom DiPierro spent her youth.” She gives a hum-like chuckle and places her bags beside Dom’s before settling next to her on the bed. She glances over at Dom, who is looking ahead at nothing in particular, her eyes glazed over as if she’s somewhere else. Darlene wonders where she is; what past memories she’s traipsing through. Her hand glides over and lands on Dom’s thigh, a gentle touch that pulls Dom back to her. Their eyes meet, Darlene’s soft and endearing and curious. Dom’s, a touch sullen and lost. But the corners of her lips raise into a smile, and Darlene knows. She raises her hands over her head and stretches out her arms as she hops onto her feet—deciding to give Dom a moment to collect herself. 

Mind piqued with curiosity about Dom’s past, Darlene starts investigating the room. Most notable is the collection of CDs that have piled up over the years. Darlene meanders her way through the stacks and glances them over. Many of them are blues and country albums that she doesn’t recognize with the exception of some Patsy Cline and, much to her disdain, Faith Hill. Her gaze shifts to another stack and she plucks a case off the top of the pile and flips it over to examine the cover. It’s plain white with the exception of _SPICE_ written across the front in large letters. 

“Oh my god. Dom, Spice Girls?” Darlene stresses incredulously, holding the CD up for emphasis. Dom rolls her eyes and walks over—playfully snatching the case away. 

“Jesus, this is so old. I was thirteen.” Dom murmurs as she looks down at the album in her hands. Darlene’s smile widens, her eyes wrinkling endearingly. 

“I always loved Scary Spice. Hm, but I bet you were a Ginger Spice kind of girl.” She’s crouched down now, her fingers running over the stacks of disks—seemingly searching for something. 

Dom quirks her head at the statement and the corner of her lip lifts into a smirk. “Not that it matters, but Sporty Spice was more my type.” The plastic case makes a satisfying noise as Dom returns it to the top of a pile.

“Ohhh, right. I forgot you’re not a fan of fire crotch.” She can hear Dom scoff in response. Darlene imagines a younger Dom—the red hue in her hair gone, leaving some variety of soft brown—dancing and singing carefree to Spice Girls. It’s such a comical image that Darlene can’t help but chuckle under her breath. Suddenly, her fingers stop at a spot along the stack.

“Yes!” She exclaims exuberantly, yanking a case out from the pile which prompts an avalanche of CDs to collapse across the floor. 

“Darlene!” Dom snaps, raising one foot as the mountain slides in her direction. 

“Britney’s Baby One More Time! We are _soooooo_ listening to this on the way back home.” Joy seeps into Darlene’s voice and she’s unable to contain the smile on her face, clearly delighted with her discovery. Dom huffs and bends over to start picking up the cases, her mind already conjuring images of Darlene belting out Britney singles in her car on the drive back to the city. 

“Hey, you played nothing but Faith Hill the whole way down.” Darlene places her hands on her hips in defiance. “I get to play Britney on the way back.” She retorts, burying the case into her duffel bag. “I still have ‘The Way You Love Me’ stuck in my head. The damn thing is on loop.” She mutters as she makes her way over to the closet in the far corner of the room. She swings open the folding doors to investigate its contents. Much to her chagrin, she’s humming the tune of the song still, under her breath. 

_'Ooh, I love watching you baby, when you’re driving me crazy.'_

“What is _this_?” Darlene exclaims, her voice slightly muffled as she roots through an overstuffed rack of hanging sweaters and jackets. Dom leans back from picking up CDs in an attempt to glean what Darlene is doing. A moment later, Darlene steps out with a varsity jacket dangling between her hands. It’s spread out, proudly on display, with _DiPierro_ written across the back in large patched letters. “Oh my god, is this a varsity jacket? Were you a jock, Dom?” Darlene chuckles breathily as she examines the jacket closer, her fingers gliding across the soft worn fabric. It’s clearly aged, but still in good condition.

“Jesus H., I told my mom to get rid of that thing…” Dom mutters as she rakes a hand through her locks. She figured that after all these years her mom would have donated the rest of her stuff, but of course she would keep sentimental things like this. If she couldn’t get her mom to throw out the shitty Christmas ornaments she made in grade school, then her varsity jacket was practically a lost cause. Much to Dom’s chagrin, her mom is a bit of a hoarder. 

“Woooooow, it’s got DiPierro across the back and everything. What did you play?” Darlene asks as she starts to tug at the snap buttons—each one making a satisfying _pop_ as it comes undone. Dom licks her lips, pausing for a moment to contemplate whether she wants to entertain Darlene’s whims. 

“Rugby. Fly-half. It was just something to do in college. Besides, it looked good on my law school applications.” A purr rumbles in the back of Darlene’s throat—not quite sure what a fly-half is, but impressed nonetheless. Not that Dom’s collegiate athleticism is much of a surprise. Dom is fit—usually making time for the gym at least every other day—so the visual forms easily in her mind.

“I bet you broke a lot of hearts back then.” Darlene wheedles, trying her best to bait Dom into revealing more. Dom scoffs at that—her eyes rolling exasperatedly. 

“It might come as a surprise to you, but my social game wasn’t my strong suit back then either.” Darlene crooks her head and shoots Dom a query expression. Still, she decides not to push the topic of past romances. Instead, she redirects her attention back to the jacket. The inside is lined with a soft cream-colored wool. Darlene rubs her thumbs against the fabric and admires the texture—noting that the scratchy feel of the wool has faded over time into its current pleasant plushness. She wonders how much Dom wore this jacket back in college. An image forms in her mind of a younger, perhaps more rebellious Dom.

“Dude, I wonder if it fits me…” She hums, sliding it over her shoulders and pulling her arms through the sleeves. Darlene finds that it runs a bit big—most things are a little long on her—but there’s something about its oversized nature that makes it feel even cozier. She gives it a little tug in the front to make sure it’s snug and even. “So—how do I look?” Darlene gives a twirl to show off the back. 

Dom watches as the brunette spins—her wavy locks fluttering out and then falling over her shoulder when she settles. As exasperating as she can be, there’s something so endearing about her devil-may-care attitude. Seeing the name _DiPierro_ spread across Darlene’s back sends a warmth radiating throughout her chest. Almost as if it was so natural and normal. It takes a moment for Dom to register Darlene’s question and she stumbles for an answer. “Looks pretty good.” Nerves leak into her voice and produce a small stutter which Darlene doesn’t fail to catch. A coy smile spreads on her lips—pleased with how flustered she’s made Dom. “It’s a little big though.” Dom adds after a beat. 

Darlene crooks her head, looking down at the jacket and shoving her hands into the pockets. “It’s nice though—like a big hug from Rugby Star Dom DiPierro!” Dom snorts—a pithy chuckle at Darlene’s remark. When she looks back at Darlene there’s a quizzical expression working across her face. She fumbles around in the jacket pocket and pulls something out—unfurling her fist to reveal a switchblade with a faded wooden handle. She looks stunned for a moment, then ecstatic. Her fingers brush against the switch on the bolster and she admires the blade as it springs out. 

“A fucking switchblade?” Darlene has already started fiddling with it—flicking it open and shut repeatedly. “I didn’t know young Dom DiPierro was such a badass.” She shoots Dom a look—her gaze suddenly steady and serious. “Dude, did you ever stab anybody?” She deadpans. Dom holds out her hand expectantly, waiting for Darlene to return it. Her dark eyes flicker down to that expectant hand and then back up to Dom’s eyes. Noting the gesture, but choosing to fidget with it until Dom answers her question. A moment of silence provokes Dom into a response.

“Let’s just say I was a bit more… reckless, when I was younger.” Dom pauses, gaze lost in the reflective surface of the knife’s steel blade. She blinks, snapping back into attention and finishing her original thought. “But no, I didn’t stab anyone.” Darlene regards her with skepticism, but sheaths the blade and places it into Dom’s palm. She stares, suddenly rather pensive, as Dom slips the knife into her pocket. 

“I never realized how much of my old crap ma kept in here…” Dom starts to ramble, the words slowly becoming muffled to Darlene. Looking down at the oversized jacket and glancing around the room, the weight of Dom’s unknown history settles on her. Scattered puzzle pieces waiting to be assembled. Looking back at Dom, her gaze softens—just a touch. Wonderstruck by the complexities this woman holds. Darlene always knew they were there, but she’s never been so confronted by it than _now_. 

Dom is still talking, rambling in her stream-of-consciousness manner that Darlene always finds so endearing. Her expression warms lovingly and she rocks onto her toes to press her lips to Dom’s, creating a soft quiet throughout the bedroom. The only sound that remains is the distant bickering of Dom’s relatives drifting up from beneath the floorboards. After a moment, Darlene leans back and returns her eyes to Dom’s. Dom is still now, quiet—her ashen eyes resting easy on Darlene’s figure. Dom has grown accustomed—fond—of these subtle acts of adoration. Little moments where Darlene eases and mellows and her eyes warm with affection. Darlene’s mouth crooks into a smile and she reaches out, intertwining her fingers with Dom’s. 

“Come on, people are going to start to wonder if we went missing.” Darlene murmurs. Dom curls her fingers around Darlene’s—savoring the soft warmth of her smaller hands. “Don’t want them putting an APB out on us.” She jokes as she gently tugs Dom along and out of the room.

As the two women descend the staircase, the sound of familial chatter grows louder and louder. A sea of boisterous conversation as family members reconnect. It drives an uneasy feeling into Darlene’s chest, makes her pulse throb against her throat. They ease themselves into the living room—perched by the entryway and unsure of where to go or what to do. Darlene’s fingers tighten, giving a gentle squeeze that Dom reciprocates by brushing her thumb across the top of Darlene’s hand. Her anxiety doesn’t have much time to brew before they’re dragged into the DiPierro family chatter. 

“Oh! Dom, Darlene, perfect timing. Your uncle Austin already found the wine and now he won’t stop talkin’ about his ex-wife.” Trudie sighs, rubbing her temple as she makes her way over. She looks the pair over before settling on Darlene—her eyes examining her for a long moment before her face lights up with recognition. “Oh, Dom, it’s your old varsity jacket!” She exclaims, now looking at Darlene with greater attention. “I haven’t seen this thing in _years_ —Darlene, hon, it looks just perfect on ya!” 

Darlene chuckles, exhaling that nervous energy—her anxiety eased slightly by Trudie’s warmth. “Yeah? Thanks Trudie.” She turns a little as she speaks, to show it off. “You know, I didn’t know Dom played sports in college. She’s _never_ talked about it.” Darlene’s tone is playful—intentionally baiting Trudie into oversharing so she can fish for information. Dom eyes the both of them warily, aware that her potential for embarrassment now hinges on how effective Darlene’s charm is.

“Oh, all the kids did sports in college. The DiPierros all have so much energy, they have to channel it into _something_.” Darlene’s expression curls into a mischievous one at the mention of pent-up energy. Her gaze shifts over to Dom and is greeted with an exasperated flustered expression—the connotation clear between them. Trudie seems rather oblivious to their silent conversation and continues. “Did y’know I played tennis for years? I still play sometimes with some of my church friends.” 

“I took ballet for _way_ too long, but it was something to do.” Darlene adds, wanting to contribute. She leaves out the fact that she mainly did it for Angela, anyway. 

“A dancer, huh? Dom, hon, what was Jerry’s friend’s name? The one you had a crush on—wasn’t she a dancer too?” While Dom fumbles for an answer, Trudie redirects her attention back to Darlene. “I mean maybe she has a _type_.” 

“Ma! I swear—“ Dom grumbles, letting out another exasperated sigh.

“Lauren!” Dom’s brother calls from across the room, and Dom’s expression crumbles into further embarrassment. 

“Lauren, that’s her—“ The sharp beep of a timer going off interrupts, and Trudie glances at her watch, and then the oven. “Shoot. You’ll have to excuse me, girls.”

Jerry seems to pick up on the embarrassment as much as Darlene does, and he peels himself away from his wife to walk over. He slings an arm around Dom’s shoulder and jostles her playfully. “No need to be embarrassed about it, we all thought Lauren was cute at one point or another.” He flashes a toothy, charismatic grin before redirecting his attention to Darlene. “You must be Darlene! Ma’s been talking about you almost nonstop. You’re almost like a celebrity around here.” 

“Yep, that’s me _._ No pressure.” Darlene quips, pushing her hands down into the pockets of Dom’s jacket in an attempt to quell the way that uneasy feeling creeps back up her spine. “You’re Jerry?”

“Yeah, and the baby of the family is Joseph.” Jerry nods toward his younger brother, who is crouched beside the television, setting up a video game system with a small blonde boy—presumably his kid. She remembers Dom mentioning a nephew. “That’s Jamie there with him—sweet kid. And my boy Tommy is around here somewhere. Probably causing some kind of trouble.” He chuckles, wringing the back of his neck. “Anyways, it’s been _forever_ since Dom’s brought someone home. I know we’re a loud bunch, but we’re all glad you’re here.” Jerry reaches out and gives Darlene a gentle pat on her bicep. Now that she’s gotten a good look, she notes how large his hands are. Darlene wonders if all DiPierros have nice sturdy hands. The pleasant moment is broken when a young brunette comes barrelling through the living room and up to Jerry. 

“Dad, how much longer until the Xbox is set up? I want to show Jaime Minecraft and aunt Sheila won’t stop talking about the gross romance book she’s writing and Alex is being an annoying dic—” The boy stops with the sudden realization that Darlene is there. He turns his head to inspect her—looking her up and down. “Who are you?” He says with a certain amount of indignation that makes Darlene smirk. She folds her arms and shifts her weight onto her other foot. 

“Darlene.” She replies with a forward tilt of her head. “And I’m guessing you must be Tommy.” His eyes narrow at her response and he shifts closer to his father’s legs. Jerry places a hand on Tommy’s head and ruffles his soft brown locks. 

“Be nice Tommy, she’s dating your Aunt Dom.” Jerry explains, his hand moving down to the boy’s shoulder. The suspicion still hasn’t drained from Tommy’s face. In fact, it may have increased. For some reason, Darlene sees a little bit of her younger self reflected in Dom’s nephew. She crouches down so she’s eye-level with him.

“So you like Minecraft? I used to mess around with that game awhile ago myself.” A confident smile crosses her face. “If you want, I can show you how to make a secret base with redstone. Hidden moving walls and everything.” Despite its appeal towards children, Minecraft is basically the equivalent of legos for hackers. With redstone and coding inputs, you can essentially make almost anything in it. An easy way to scratch that hacker’s itch. 

“Prove it.” Tommy demands, still regarding Darlene with suspicion, as if she might be bluffing. Dom chuckles, and Darlene catches her eyes for a moment. 

“I guess duty calls.” Darlene grins, a little smug, and pushes herself up to stand again. She nods toward the Xbox, and waves Tommy over. “C’mon kiddo.” Tommy follows suit, but retorts quickly at the statement. 

“Don’t call me kiddo, _lady_.” He shoots pointedly. Darlene smiles back—admiring his snarky attitude. 

“I won’t call you kiddo if you don’t call me lady.” Darlene returns the sentiment. There’s a long pause—followed by a sigh.

“... Fine.” Tommy relents with a roll of his eyes, but both he and Darlene seem to be enjoying themselves. Dom watches as the two meander over to the television—a calm radiating over her to see Darlene easing in with the family. 

“Dom, will you come give me a hand in the kitchen?” Trudie shouts over the noise of children running and adults chattering. Dom takes a cursory glance at Darlene and sees that she’s settled comfortably on the floor. They exchange a glance and Darlene’s lips curve into a small permissive smile. Not that Dom ever needs permission, but she feels at ease knowing Darlene doesn’t feel stranded out there alone with her unruly nephews. 

Dom makes her way through the sea of relatives and over to the kitchen where her mother is currently washing her hands. She follows her lead—rolling up her black sleeves and running her hands under the faucet. As she starts washing her palms, her gaze drifts back out to the living room. Darlene is sitting by the television with her legs crossed and a controller settled in her hands. Jamie and Tommy are huddled around her—watching with bated breath as a game starts to load up on the screen. 

Darlene, blanketed in her old college varsity jacket, making playful small talk with her nephews—it looks perfectly natural. Perfectly normal. After a beat, Dom realizes that this _is_ normal. A comfortable normal that makes her body ease and a smile drift subconsciously onto her face. She’s so zoned out that it takes a moment for her to register that her mom has been talking to her.

“You enjoying the view, hon?” Dom swallows thickly—suddenly nervous as she dries her hands, despite knowing there is no reason for her to feel ashamed. Trudie cracks a smile and rubs her arm. “Relax, Dom, I’m only teasing.” Dom chuckles dryly, not knowing what to do with her hands so she adjusts her sleeves again. 

“What can I do to help?” Trudie digs around in the fridge and pulls out an assortment of vegetables. After a quick rinse, they’re placed on a wooden cutting board with a knife set neatly beside it. 

“Chopping duty.” She instructs, before she returns to prepping the turkey. 

Dom lets herself get into the flow of chopping vegetables. Something about the repetitive movement of it is almost soothing. The way the knife slides under her careful guidance. How the food crunches and snaps against the sharp steel. Dom knows that she’s by no means a good cook—but simple jobs like this—that she can manage. Sometimes, in moments like these, it almost makes her want to be more exploratory in the kitchen.

As she slices the vegetables, her thoughts roam to Darlene. Her mind finds an easy resting place in the form of the brunette. In her laughter throughout the day—that dry chuckle, her wide uncontainable grins, the way that her smile makes her eyes spark bright and warm. 

“She’s beautiful.” Trudie says simply, her gaze not shifting from her work. 

“What?” Dom is so in her own head that she doesn’t entirely catch what her mom says.

“Darlene. She’s really beautiful. And I’m not just talking about her looks.” Dom looks pensive for a moment, still as she listens to her mother compliment Darlene. After a beat, she can’t contain the soft smile that spreads across her lips. “You really like her, don’t you, hon?” Both women continue their cooking work, not exchanging eye contact but sharing smiles.

“Yeah, I do.” Dom responds earnestly, stopping her chopping for a moment to look back up towards the living room. As she raises her head, she flips the red locks that fall in front of her eyes back behind her shoulder. The game has loaded up at this point—a block-shaped biome spanning across the television. Her nephews seem transfixed—almost impressed—as Darlene starts placing blocks. Dom can hear their excited chatter and increasing demands even from her position in the kitchen. Her head shakes, just a little, and a brief chuckle slips under her breath. She returns to her diligent work, her thoughts so pleasantly consumed with Darlene that she doesn’t notice her mother’s attentive gaze.

After the dinner prep is completed and the turkey placed into the oven, the family settles into the living room to exchange gifts. The children are the most boisterous—clearly impatient from having to wait all afternoon to open their presents. Dom settles onto the couch beside Darlene, pulling her knees up close to her chest. She tugs the plastic coating from one of the candy canes that decorated the tree, lodging it between her teeth—coating her mouth with the overpowering taste of mint. The two women are content to watch the children tear apart wrapping paper and rip open boxes, excitedly showing off their Christmas spoils. Dom glances over at Darlene and catches a glimpse of a soft laugh at her nephew’s antics. Aunt Sheila slowly and painstakingly opens her gifts to save the wrapping paper—something that seems to bore and irritate the ever-loving shit out of Darlene. After a while of simply spectating, a gift is suddenly handed in their direction.

“Oh, oh, this one is from me! It’s for both of you, so you gotta open it together.” Trudie explains before leaning back into the sofa. Dom can feel the anticipation radiating off of her in waves. Dom and Darlene exchange glances before tearing the thin glossy paper off. It’s a book. More specifically, a cookbook. It has a plain cover—it’s a soft lavender color with flowery writing that simply reads “Family Recipes.” Dom inspects it quizzically—not entirely sure how to feel about the present yet. She looks to Darlene to gauge her reaction and there’s only a gentle smile on her face. Perhaps formulating some joke about her inability to cook. Dom opens the cover and glances through the contents. The first few pages are recipes that look familiar—things her mother cooked when she was growing up. Family recipes, that is. After the first few pages, the rest are blank except for lines waiting to be written on. 

“Now that you finally have someone to cook for, I figured I can finally pass these down to you.” Trudie explains—her face glowing as she speaks. “But there’s plenty of empty pages in there, so you two can start your own family cookbook.” Dom looks back down at the book in her hands and it suddenly feels heavier. A sentimental weight added to it. 

“Starting with your famous grilled cheese.” Darlene hums quietly, more for them than anyone else. She leans into Dom, squeezing her knee fondly. Dom chuckles under her breath and folds the cookbook shut, returning her mother’s gentle gaze.

“Thanks ma. It’s perfect.” Darlene quickly follows up with a thanks of her own. There’s a long moment of hushed quiet—only occasional whispering—and expectant eyes cast their direction. Dom squirms nervously before realizing that everyone is waiting for them to exchange their presents. “Oh—” Dom says gently—reaching into her handbag and pulling something out.

“Here.” Extended out from Dom’s hands is an envelope with Darlene’s name neatly scrawled on it. Darlene inspects it curiously—admiring Dom’s neat handwriting—before cautiously taking it into her hands. Nerves flutter through her system as she feels the anticipatory stares from Dom’s extended family, watching and waiting to see what Dom got her new beau. Darlene flips the envelope over and gently tears it open, pulling out a simple yet elegant Hallmark-looking card. There’s some cheesy quote about Christmas love on the front—the follow-up to which is written on the inside. When Darlene opens the letter, her eyes catch on two slips of paper as they fall out and flutter down onto the floor. She can distantly hear relatives chattering amongst themselves, excitedly speculating what Dom gave Darlene. She bends over and scoops up the slips—now able to recognize what they are. Airplane tickets, two of them, already printed out with their names on them. One for Darlene Alderson and one for Dominique DiPierro, to Barcelona. 

Darlene feels emotions stirring inside of her that she can’t quite pin down. Excitement? Confusion? Surprise? A concoction that makes the tips of her fingers buzz with energy. The long silence and quiet chatter is cut by Trudie’s voice—rising above the sea of side talk. “What does it say, hon?” 

Darlene scoffs, almost laughs at how absurd and perfect the gesture is. Incredulous at the idea of Dom taking the initiative to plan a vacation for the two of them. “It’s, um, it’s plane tickets to Barcelona.” 

“Oh, Dom, that sounds just perfect! I’m so happy for the two of you!” Trudie is practically beaming, and leans over to one of Dom’s brothers to engage in some speculative side talk. Darlene turns to Dom, who is looking down at her so endearingly, a soft warm smile lighting up her features.

“But—what about work?” 

Dom chuckles softly, giving the smallest shake of her head. “I already put in a request for time off.” She leans over a little so that she’s closer to Darlene—their shoulders flush against each other. Her fingers reach out and gently comb through those soft brown tresses, sending a wave of calm through Darlene’s system. 

For once, Darlene is speechless—simply looking over the tickets in her hands. Her mind conjuring images of the two of them walking down the warm streets of Barcelona. Like a normal touristy couple. A normal tourist couple bickering lovingly, sharing tapas, taking in the city. Darlene’s silence stirs that anxiety in Dom and cues her to start rambling.

“I, uh, it doesn’t have to be Barcelona.” Dom starts, her fingers reaching up instinctively to pull her hair back. “I’m pretty fluent in Spanish so I figured it’d be easy to get around. But I got flight insurance so I can always reschedule or cancel if you don’t want—“ 

“Barcelona sounds perfect.” Darlene cuts her off before she can continue. She reaches up to Dom’s cheek, fingers grazing her skin before tangling in her hair at the nape of her neck and drawing her into a kiss. Hoping she can convey even a fraction of the warmth that surges through her, the euphoric buzz that rendered her speechless. They part a moment later, Darlene vaguely aware that Dom’s family is probably still watching them. But she holds Dom’s eyes for a moment longer, squeezes her thigh reassuringly, even as Dom eases beneath her touch. “Really.” 

The anxiety drains from Dom’s expression into a flustered smile. Heat spreads across her cheeks as she enjoys the sensation of Darlene’s fingers tangled up in her hair—also painfully aware of her mother’s adoring gaze across the room. 

After a beat, recollection flashes across Darlene’s face. “Oh!” She exclaims, digging around and pulling out a long envelope.

“Here.” She presents the rather plain white envelope out towards Dom. “I don’t have a fancy card or anything but…” 

“What...” Dom takes it into her hands, examines it with curiosity before flipping it over. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the switchblade from earlier. The blade springs out and she uses it quite like a letter opener—cutting the envelope open. From across the room, Dom can hear Tommy chime in.

“Whoa! Cool knife!” He makes a move to get closer, but his mother grabs his arm and keeps him in place. “Mom! Can’t I just take a quick look?” Dom offers her in-law a sympathetic look before interjecting herself.

“No. It isn’t a toy.” She insists, resheathing the blade and sliding it back into her pocket. Distantly, she can hear Tommy and his mother chatting heatedly. Her curiosity at this point is overwhelming as she peels open the envelope and pulls out a pamphlet. Attached to the front of the glossy sheet is a sticky note. In Darlene’s endearingly messy handwriting it reads “Time to do some growing up” with a hand-drawn heart beside the words. Dom’s mouth raises into an instinctual smile—her chest warms with sentiment at the quote. She opens the pamphlet to review the contents inside. It’s an advertisement for evening culinary classes. “ _Oh_.” Her face lights up, smile widening as she looks up from the pamphlet. She recalls the few times she and Darlene tried to cook together—disastrous, flavor-wise, but some of her most favorite nights. “Can we go together?”

“Oh, we _are_ going together. I bought the package, but we still have to choose which classes we want.” Dom takes a cursory glance over the assortment of courses. There seems to be a lot of variety. 

“Seems like some good reading material for later.” Dom notes pleasantly. Her eyes lift from the pamphlet and meet with Darlene’s. She leans in and places a gentle kiss to Darlene’s lips—flustered, but determined to return to the soft sentiment from earlier. They hold the kiss for a precious moment before parting. “Thank you.” Dom murmurs gently—her voice so sweet and hushed that only Darlene can hear her over the family chatter. Darlene’s hand returns to that familiar spot on Dom’s thigh and curves in, prompting a soft throb between her legs and heat to return to Dom’s face. She leans in close—her breath hot as it hits up against Dom’s ear.

“I got you another present, but I’ll have to give it to you later tonight.” She purrs—a pleasant hushed roughness to her tone—before she leans back to revel in Dom’s flustered expression. A blush warms her cheeks, her brow furrowing before she swallows hard. Darlene drops her eyes nonchalantly to the open pamphlet in Dom’s lap, but she can’t help a small, smug smile—internally basking in satisfaction at Dom’s reaction.

Jerry seems to pick up on their side conversation, and doesn’t waste the opportunity to join in. “What’d she get you, sis?” He calls from across the room.

“It’s, um, culinary classes.” Dom replies simply—doing her best to redirect her focus to the list of classes. 

“Sounds like dinner is on you next year, then. You hear that ma?” Jerry calls over to Trudie, who gives a little laugh.

“Oh, the stakes are raised now, Dominique. We’ll be expecting more than those sad little sugar cookies next year.” Trudie chimes in, her response prompting a smug grin from Darlene. 

“See, I _told_ you those cookies were shit.” Darlene notes with a smirk. “Don’t worry, babe, I think they have some baking classes in there too.” She adds, leaning over to sneak a peek at the list of classes. As she peruses the pamphlet, a sharp beep sounds in the distance. 

“Oh, speaking of dinner—everything should be ready shortly so finish up with your presents and head to the dining room, ‘kay?” Trudie instructs, pushing herself up from the couch and hurrying into the kitchen. 

* * *

The dining table is long, but it still can’t house all of the DiPierros. There’s a smaller table at the other end of the room segmented off for the children. Darlene almost wishes she was over there—talking with Tommy and Jamie was a little easier than the adults. There’s a red-and-white Christmas themed runner draped down the middle of the table that’s adorned with strategically placed Yankee candles that offer a dim, pleasant glow. In the middle of the main table is a glass vase showcasing the bouquet of gardenias Darlene brought. The table is practically overflowing with food and everyone is chatting between bites. Every so often, bowls and dishes are passed between people for extra servings.

As Darlene listens to the pleasant small talk around the table, her thoughts can’t help but wander. Wander back into the past, months ago, when these people’s lives were dangling under the Dark Army’s fingertips. How Dom pleaded for their lives as she lay bleeding out on the floor of Angela’s old flat. Being surrounded by them at Christmas time—their inviting smiles and thoughtful remarks—she suddenly feels like a fraud, and that insecurity crawls under her skin. Her vision tunnels around the plate in front of her and the side talk starts to fade further into the distance. She swallows hard, pushing against the anxiety that tightens around her throat. Darlene places her palms against the tablecloth. 

“I—” She starts, voice hardly a quiet stutter at first. “I’m going to get some fresh air.” As she scoots her chair back and stands up to full height, her eyes meet with Dom’s. Dom’s eyebrows lift ever so subtly—gaze softening into a question. The attention is settling, in a way, helps Darlene check herself for a moment before she gives a faint nod. _She’s not a fraud. She just needs some air._

Dom’s expression eases into an understanding smile as Darlene grabs the varsity jacket from its resting spot on the back of the dining chair. She worms her arms through the sleeves and passes through the kitchen to the back door. The slight hush that falls over the dining room as she leaves hangs heavily over her as she exits into the backyard.

Darlene’s shoulders quiver against the winter chill that swirls around her and sends a shudder throughout her body. She tugs the collar of Dom’s varsity jacket tighter around her neck, the once-scratchy wool worn down and soft against her skin. Faintly, mingled with the scent of smoke and ash, Darlene can detect the smell of the house on Dom’s old jacket. It doesn’t smell quite the same as Dom—but prompts a similar amount of comfort. The cigarette radiates a faint warmth between her fingers, and in her chest as it swells with smoke. She almost regrets the decision to go for a cigarette—the velvet of her dress is warmer than cotton, but still hopeless against the icy bite in the air, even wrapped in the cocoon of Dom’s jacket.

“You have a light, hon?” 

She turns, Trudie a few paces behind her and fiddling with a pack of cigarettes as she steps out into the yard. Surprise flickers over Darlene’s expression, falls away as she narrows her eyes curiously.

“You smoke?” She retrieves her lighter from the jacket, flicks the sparkwheel once, twice, before it lights a flame.

“Sure, since I was a kid.” Trudie leans into the light, then settles next to Darlene and takes a long drag. “Off and on, but you know.” She shrugs.

Darlene makes a thoughtful sound, watches the curl of smoke that escapes Trudie’s cigarette and dissipates into the air around them. She pockets the lighter and turns her attention back to the empty yard, sparse and white with snow aside from a few paw prints tracked around the single tree out back. 

“Sorry, I’m not used to big family things.” Darlene exhales heavily, pursing her lips around the smoke. She doesn’t remember the last time she spent a holiday with family. The thought doesn’t hurt, necessarily, but it feels strange. Foreign. Stranger still because she _likes_ being here with Dom’s family. It’s warm and noisy and comfortable and good. Almost too good, and that thought crept under her skin, worried at her mind over the end of dinner. “I just needed some air.”

“You and me both.” Trudie chuckles wryly. “Don’t get me wrong, I love having everyone together, but the DiPierro’s are a _loud_ family. With the exception of Dominique—I think you got the good one.” She winks, nudging Darlene’s elbow, and Darlene breaks into a smile almost despite herself.

“I think you’re right about that.” Darlene smiles around her cigarette—watches as the smoke billows into the air and dissipates. For the first time in a while, she can clearly see the field of stars freckling the atmosphere. She finds herself entranced—almost overwhelmed—by the sheer amount of glistening lights. Back in the city, the bright lights blotted them all out. Those stars stay reflected in her dark eyes for a moment before Trudie pulls her attention away. 

“Y’know, I’ve been wanting to say something—“ Trudie pauses to take another drag of her cigarette. Darlene watches and waits, curiosity itching at the tips of her fingers, for her to finish the thought. “—to thank you.”

She opens her mouth to question the statement, but hesitates. Trudie regards her with such warmth, always, but in this moment it feels almost overwhelming. Darlene wrestles with the feeling, again, that she doesn’t deserve this. She gives a small shake of her head, flicks her cigarette. Ash floats downward, littering the snow beside her boots.

“I’ve never seen Dom smile like this with anybody else before.” Trudie pauses, looks out across the yard. Her focus never quite finds a place—her thoughts consumed by the image of her daughter wrapped up in a contented glow. “When she’s around you she just _lights_ up.” Her eyes find Darlene’s again, soft as her smile widens.

“And listen, a relationship is hard work, so I’m not saying anything. We both know Dominique is stubborn as a mule—“ Trudie stops herself, before she rambles off on a different train of thought entirely. Darlene can’t help but soften at the familiarity, seeing a quirk of Dom’s reflected in Trudie’s mannerisms. “I’m just happy you’re with us, Darlene. Seeing how you two are—it means a lot. Honestly. And if you ever need anything, I’m here, alright?”

“Yeah.” Darlene replies simply, a certain softness in her tone. She takes a final inhale from her cigarette before following Trudie’s example, smothering the heat out against the stairs leading up to the house. There’s a cracked coffee cup full of cigarette butts on the last step, so she deposits hers alongside the others. “I wasn’t—“ She hesitates, emotion flashing hot and sudden in her chest like the nicotine had. The last time she remembers feeling at home in this way was with Angela, and her family, back when they were kids. A combination of emotions stirs inside of her—a mixture of loss and longing—competing for her attention. “I haven’t really had that in a long time.” She murmurs, her tone hushed in an attempt to mask as much of the vulnerability as possible that is desperately trying to escape her.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Trudie’s voice is gentle, not with the pity that Darlene detests when she mentions anything about her childhood, but with warmth and affection. She opens her arms, offering a hug. “Come here.”

Darlene’s eyes sting with unexpected tears, and she huffs out a breath, something between a sigh and a laugh. She steps into the hug, grateful for the comfort and moment to collect herself. Trudie’s arms are warm, a pleasant contrast to the bitter winter air. She sniffles—still able to just barely detect that familiar floral fragrance—hopeful that Trudie can’t hear her. She lets herself ease into the embrace—taking in and cherishing that maternal affection. After a minute longer, Darlene peels herself away.

“You know, I made cheesecake. Should we go for dessert?” 

Darlene chuckles away the last of her tears and nods affirmatively. “Yeah, some cheesecake sounds pretty fucking good right now.” 

Trudie smiles at that—holding the back door open for Darlene to follow in after.


	2. incremental build

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Being in her childhood bedroom, her mother just a few doors away—it doesn’t exactly inspire confidence. But she can’t deny the way Darlene looks, either. Or that looking at her, like this, suffuses a familiar heat beneath Dom’s skin that settles between her thighs."
> 
> in which dom and darlene are finally alone

It’s long past dessert and all parties have since retired to their respective rooms, Dom and Darlene included—exhausted from entertaining curious questions from relatives all evening. Still, Darlene’s husky declaration of a second mystery gift was gnawing at Dom’s curiosity, even now. She had been running through scenarios and possibilities in her mind for most of the evening. It didn’t help when Darlene’s hand curved in to rest at her inner thigh during dessert. And now they are settled back into Dom’s bedroom—finally alone.

“I can’t believe you managed to handle my nephews for that long. They drive everybody absolutely nuts.” Dom murmurs as she slips off her blouse to change into a t-shirt.

“What—the boys? Oh, I like them. They’re feisty little shits.” Darlene chuckles, rummaging through her luggage. “They remind me a lot of myself, I guess.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Dom responds with dry sarcasm as she pulls the tee over her head. Darlene raises her head to give a signature _ha-ha very funny_ expression and catches sight of Dom’s hair as it fans out with newfound freedom from the confines of the t-shirt. The fiery locks wisping into the air before cascading down Dom’s back. Darlene’s eyes soften at the image of Dom caught in the warm glow of the lamp perched atop the nightstand.

“So—” Dom begins, a little flustered as she unbuttons her jeans and starts to slide them off. “What’s this other present?”

“Jumping right to it.” Darlene drawls, admiring the way Dom flushes in response. She pauses, hands buried in her luggage, to watch Dom tug her jeans the rest of the way off. Her underwear usually runs on the plain side—single colors with little frills or lace. Dom looks gorgeous in just about anything she wears, Darlene thinks. Her eyes roam up and down Dom’s body, admiring her bare legs. She’s always noticed their height difference. It’s hard not to when Dom offers to grab things off the top shelves—an offer which Darlene always stubbornly declines, insisting that she can get things herself and stepping up onto shelves, much to Dom’s chagrin. The way she has to lean up to kiss Dom or pull her down to meet her lips. Dom’s soft subtle downward gaze. It’s all due to those legs... clear skin, a little brown stubble from the last time she shaved, well-defined calves and toned thighs leading up to her ass. The image drives a heat throughout Darlene and she swallows the lump that forms in her throat.

“You’re a tease.” Dom exhales, snark underlying the defeated sigh. She turns in hopes of sneaking a glance of what Darlene is looking for, but Darlene’s hands are burrowed deep in her luggage—too far for her to make anything out. Dom doesn’t have to wait long before Darlene stretches back onto her feet, arms folded behind her back.

“Mm, I thought you liked that.” Darlene hums, her voice soft with feigned innocence. Dom rolls her eyes, but when her gaze lands back on Darlene there’s nothing but adoration there. Darlene steps closer, fingertips grazing along her ribcage before pressing forward with intent, guiding Dom backward toward the bed. When the back of Dom’s knees hit the bed she sits, instinctually. Darlene shifts her weight, leans into Dom’s inner thigh, and rests her hand there.

“It’s really for both of us, but…” She produces a gift bag from behind her back, red and simple with a silver bow stuck to the front of it, and extends it forward into Dom’s lap. Her eyes glimmer in the low light, mischief and affection mingling. “Merry Christmas.”

Dom’s body reacts to that familiar warm touch, but she does her best to redirect her attention to the bag settled in her lap. She opens it—careful not to seem too eager—and investigates the contents. Her fingers wrap around something leather, and she pulls out an intricate black harness, with thick straps designed to hug the hips. Hiding beneath it is a purple silicone dildo, average looking, but pleasant to the touch. Warmth flashes across Dom’s cheeks as her eyes settle on the items, but she quickly composes herself.

“Something to look forward to when we get back.” She hums, flipping her hair out of her face as her eyes flicker up to Darlene's briefly before slipping away. Her gaze unable to find a place to settle. “Well, that and Britney.” Darlene cocks her head to the side, the corner of her mouth raising into a familiar smirk.

“Well, you should at least try it on. Y’know, see if it fits.” Darlene starts, a soft, purr-like quality to her voice in an attempt to subdue her excitement. Dom takes the straps into her hands—brushes her thumbs along them, taking in the sensation of the leather against her skin. It’s good quality. She’s fairly certain that if she brought it to her nose she would smell the rich, musky scent of leather emanating off of it. Her lips raise into an instinctual smile. It really is so Darlene to go extra on a present like _this_. The perfect equipment to help alleviate that excess energy of hers.

“It’s got adjustable straps.” Dom observes, gently placing the harness on the sheets. “I’m sure it’ll fit.” She insists with that air of responsibility that provokes an internal groan from within Darlene. But Darlene has never been one to surrender easily. She swallows that complaint and crooks her head. Mind already planning her next steps.

Darlene smiles mischievously—the cunning curvature of her lips telling Dom that she’s scheming something. Her fingers hook under the straps of her dress and slide them aside, until they slip off her shoulders. With a flutter of fabric, the dress falls down and piles around her bare feet. She reaches back and unclasps her bra, immediately feeling relief from the stiff wireframing. She was going to take it off before bed anyways—but seeing Dom swallow as she undresses grants her immense satisfaction. Darlene bats her lashes, catching Dom’s gaze as it dances around her body. With a satisfied little hum, she reaches over and snatches the harness from its resting spot on the bed.

“Well _I’ll_ try it on then.” She quips, and slips her legs between the straps, pulling it up until it hugs her hips. Tugs so that it tightens around her thighs. The fit is snug, comfortable—the leather against her bare skin is a pleasure in itself. Darlene fusses with it for another moment and looks herself over as best she can. “Feels nice.” She hums, giving a little turn so that Dom can get a better look. She casts her gaze over her shoulder to peek at the other woman’s expression. “It makes my ass look pretty good, doesn’t it?” Darlene asks, that devilish smirk returning.

Dom’s chest rises with a heavy breath, her eyes drawn to Darlene’s backside. One thick strap crosses her lower back, and two smaller straps hug the bottom of her cheeks—framing her ass perfectly. “Looks like it fits well.” Dom remarks with a brief hitch in her throat. Darlene saunters her way back to the bed, closing the distance between them.

“You think so? I think it might be a little loose… mind checking for me?” She asks, her gaze unabating. A mutual understanding in their hazy eager eyes. Dom brings her hands—slow to start—to Darlene’s thighs. Presses her fingers to that irresistible soft flesh and roams her way over to the straps. She notes the contrast between Darlene’s smooth skin and the rough hardy texture of the leather. Dom wraps her hands around the strap hugging Darlene’s thigh and gives it a little tug, her fingers prying at the bottom of the leather to make sure there’s no wiggle room. She remains transfixed for a long moment—thinks about placing a kiss against Darlene’s inner thigh. Trailing those kisses upward and burying herself between Darlene’s legs. But she remembers where she is—her extended family asleep just down the hall—and pries her hands away, back to the safety of her lap.

“It looks good.” Dom breathes, reaching up instinctually and brushing her hair back from her eyes. Darlene takes a moment to adjust too—heat flashing between her legs as her body recalls Dom’s touch.

“Dom—“ Darlene starts gently, affection warming in her chest as Dom retreats shyly. As endearing as it may be, Darlene knows there’s more there than Dom is letting on. “ _Good_? You spanked it to my interrogation video and I was wearing a fucking flannel.”

That provokes a breathy laugh from Dom and she shakes her head. Leans back against her palms, taking Darlene in from another few inches away. She’s right—she usually is. Darlene’s fingertips run along the top of Dom’s thigh, and she tilts her head curiously.

“You look really hot, okay?” Dom mumbles, heat flashing in her cheeks. Being in her childhood bedroom, her mother just a few doors away—it doesn’t exactly inspire confidence. But she can’t deny the way Darlene looks, either. Or that looking at her, like this, suffuses a familiar heat beneath Dom’s skin that settles between her thighs.

“That’s better.” Darlene purrs, a self-satisfied smirk gracing her lips. She drifts, idly rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. “What else do you like?”

Dom’s hands reach out and her palms return to Darlene’s thighs. “I—“ She swallows hard, pushing through her nerves. “I love how it shows off your hips, and your ass.” She pauses, gaze drifting up to meet Darlene’s. “And your smile. The way you talk—I just, can’t keep my hands off of you…” Dom murmurs huskily, pulling Darlene closer to her. Darlene picks up on that movement and slides into her lap, her legs straddling Dom’s hips. Dom peers at Darlene wordlessly—lost for a long moment, but finds herself as her fingers brush along Darlene’s jawline. “You’re so beautiful.” She utters, voice filled with awe and adoration.

“ _Much_ better.” Darlene hums. The indulgence leaves her with a contented buzz—better than any drink ever has. She snakes her hands up to Dom’s neck and tangles her fingers in those fine fiery locks. Pulls her closer, bringing their mouths together—soft at first, but it builds quickly into heated, open-mouthed kisses. Dom’s tongue glides against Darlene’s and is greeted with a lingering sweetness from dessert, and the faint bitter taste of cigarette smoke. It’s familiar, and intoxicating, drawing Dom further into Darlene’s allure. The kisses continue between hot, heavy breaths—both needy and unwilling to separate. That is, until Dom manages to tear herself away.

“Darlene—“ She mutters breathlessly. “We should go to bed.” Darlene grants her the space to talk, instead pushing Dom’s hair back and pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck.

“Why? Can’t we have a little fun?” Darlene asks between pecks. Adoring the sensation of her mouth against the soft warmth of Dom’s neck. The clean, herbal scent of her shampoo mingling intoxicatingly with the hint of perfume that still lingers on her skin.

“ _Darlene_ —” The brunette seals her lips around Dom’s skin and starts to suck—rolling the flesh between her teeth—prompting Dom to squirm away from her touch. “If you start that I’m going to wind up covered in bruises tomorrow.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Darlene cooes playfully, guiding her lips back to Dom’s neck. Each tender kiss and rake of her teeth chipping away at the redhead’s willpower.

“My family—“ Dom protests, but the sigh that escapes her is far from one of annoyance. She knows full well that Darlene is an expert at getting her way—as if she even has much willpower to begin with when it comes to Darlene’s charms. “I’d never hear the end of it from my brothers.” Dom huffs, but her hands are roaming their way up Darlene’s back and into her hair. “Plus, almost everyone’s right down the hall…” She exhales—riddling through every logical reason not to give into Darlene’s whims right this second.

“They’re probably dead asleep after all that cheesecake and gossiping.” Darlene retorts between kisses, her fingers still lovingly raking through Dom’s hair. “It’s Christmas, after all. Come on, Dom, don't you want to treat your girl?” Her hips grind down, pressing firmly into Dom’s crotch. Dom’s breath hitches, her mind reeling at the sensation of the leather straps between Darlene’s legs rubbing flush against her. Intensifying the pleasurable throbbing sensation at her core.

“Fuck, Darlene—” Dom rasps, her hands lowering back down and settling on Darlene’s thighs. Her fingers dig into that soft flesh, lifting her up with ease and flipping her back against the mattress. Darlene gasps, her surprise melting easily into pleased giggles at Dom’s sudden assertiveness. Dom reunites their mouths—fervent, needy kisses that stir heat in both of them. It isn’t long before those kisses lower—trailing down Darlene’s stomach and landing at her hips. Dom goes to work tenderly fussing with and loosening the leather straps wrapped around Darlene’s thighs. Enjoys the way that Darlene's breath hitches in her throat as she removes the harness, slowly and intentionally sliding it down her legs.

Dom stands to her full height, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she rises. Her fingers wrap around the hemline of her t-shirt to pull it up and over her head—discarding it beside Darlene’s dress on the floor. She reaches out and grabs ahold of the purple dildo resting beside Darlene on the mattress, sliding it into the harness wordlessly. Her unabating gaze and the faint crook of her lips as she slips out of her underwear drives a wet heat between Darlene’s legs. The harness, fully loaded, glides up Dom’s legs and settles at her hips. With a few tugs and adjustments, the straps tighten comfortably, securing it in place. Dom takes a moment to revel in the feeling, her fingers brushing over the straps as she admires the contrast of smooth skin and sturdy leather. The tightness of the straps as they hug her thighs and ass is nothing short of sublime. It stokes that heat in her core and her eyes are drawn back to Darlene—propped up on her elbows and admiring the view.

Dom climbs back onto the bed, easing between Darlene’s thighs with a kiss just above her knee. Her hands follow ahead, smoothing upward over the warm expanse of Darlene’s thighs. She hooks her fingers under the hem of Darlene’s underwear, slides them down her hips and discards them alongside the rest of their clothing.

“We have to be quiet.” Dom warns, trailing her mouth closer to Darlene’s center with another kiss. Darlene’s eyes lock with hers, expectant. “Okay?”

“Coming from you—“ Darlene snarks, eyebrows raising as if in challenge. But she doesn’t predict Dom’s comeback—her teeth sink into Darlene’s thigh, sharp and sudden, and Darlene nearly yelps in surprise. She claps her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound, finally easing a few seconds later despite the look of disapproval from Dom. “ _Okay_ , okay.”

Dom shifts her mouth higher, hides the smugness of her smile against Darlene’s skin. She continues where she left off, this time with more care—she drags her teeth along Darlene’s thigh, settling on a spot to leave a mark. Darlene’s hips shift with the sensation, and she hums approvingly. One hand drifts down to Dom’s head, fingers raking through her hair to push it back from her face. Dom’s head lifts, finds another place against Darlene’s inner thigh to work into a pretty bruise.

“ _Babe…”_ Darlene sighs, fingers tightening in Dom’s hair. Her hips rock forward, her body begging for more than just teasing bites. Dom’s skin shudders pleasurably at the sensation of Darlene’s nails raking through her hair—but she doesn’t give into Darlene’s silent demands. Not yet. She wants to savor this. Always wants to savor the intimate moments she shares with her. Besides, the foreplay is more than half the fun with them. Working Darlene into a tizzy—seeing how badly she wants her, needs her—provides Dom with immense satisfaction. Her hands find a comfortable spot to rest on the inside of Darlene’s thighs and push her legs apart, her body humming with pleasure at the sound of Darlene’s quick expectant inhale. Finds a few more places to leave dark remnants of her desire across Darlene’s skin, easing her way slowly towards her center. She can smell her—wet and musky and intoxicating—a familiar scent that creates an insatiable hunger in Dom.

She leans in and brushes her lips against Darlene’s clit, gentle and featherlike. Uses all of her restraint not to dive in with heavy eager licks. Darlene’s muted whimper buzzes in her ears and along her nerves, echoing desire in the ache that throbs between her own legs.

Dom makes Darlene wait with bated breath as she continues placing only the faintest kisses to her center. Darlene’s hips roll up towards Dom in an attempt to gain friction—the wave of movement only stopped by Dom’s hands. Her fingers dig firm into her flesh and hold her in place. “ _Jesus_ , babe—stop being such a tease—” Darlene whines, growing more impatient by the minute.

“Seems like you like it, Darlene.” Dom murmurs, enjoying the way Darlene squirms beneath the heat of her words on her skin. She eases her grip on Darlene’s hips, sliding one hand up toward her stomach. Dips her head to run her tongue up the length of her folds, just once, savoring the slick taste of Darlene against her mouth. Dom swallows hard—making a mental note to control herself. It would be so easy to keep going, to fulfill both of their desires in a quick, messy rush to satisfaction. Darlene trembles, her hips easing against Dom and chasing the movement of her tongue. Her eyes roll up to catch a glimpse of Darlene—lower lip caught between her teeth, brows knit together—a perfect picture of focus.

Dom turns her attention back to what is in front of her. Darlene’s lips—freshly shaven and glistening faintly with moisture. Ready and eager for her touch. She runs two fingers down from the tip of her clit, sliding them between her folds and winding them inside of her.

“Mmmh—” Darlene makes a small noise at the entrance and Dom pauses for a brief moment before continuing. She’s greeted by a warm pleasant wetness that coats her fingers. Dom hums—curling and unfurling her fingers in a steady rhythm. Darlene’s hips twist, shifting to get Dom’s fingers to where she wants them so desperately to be. But Dom manipulates her position in coordination with Darlene’s movements—that jolt of pleasure always within reach, but never quite given. She’s just warming her up, after all. But seeing Darlene shudder and whimper—soaked with need—is an added benefit. One that produces a similar wetness in herself.

The leather straps that hug Dom’s thighs shift and bite pleasantly with each imperceptible movement of her hips, escalating that hunger that gnaws at the back of her mind. She slicks her tongue upward from where her fingers are buried inside Darlene, up to her clit. Flicks against her hard with the flat of her tongue. Darlene’s hips jolt, her hands tightening again in Dom’s hair.

“ _Dom_ —“ She whines, curling her fingers until the pressure against Dom’s scalp is a steady tug. The sensation tingles down Dom’s spine, a visceral hum of pleasure that makes her whimper. “I swear to god…” Darlene’s breath shudders out in a sigh, hips arching into the press of Dom’s fingers. Dom’s eyes find hers, eyebrows raising just the slightest in question. “Just fuck me already.” Darlene huffs, eagerness and frustration mingling.

“Ask me nicely first.” The corner of Dom’s lips raise into a satisfied smirk.

Darlene groans, her head sinking backward into the comforter. “Shit— _fine_ —please fuck me?” She relents, her legs writhing against the sheets as Dom’s fingers stay frustratingly steady and still inside of her. Darlene’s submission sends a wave of arousal flooding under Dom’s skin and pooling between her legs—overriding her usual flustered nature. She knows that Darlene can do better than that.

“I said nicely.” Dom quips, curling her fingers so they just barely graze that sensitive rough spot that makes Darlene melt. Darlene shudders hard, her shoulders pressing into the mattress as her hips rise to meet the motion. But the pleasure is gone as quickly as it had flashed along her nerves. She pauses—runs her lower lip between her teeth—weighing the embarrassment of complete honesty against that aching desire desperate for satisfaction.

“ _Please_ Dom, fuck—” She whimpers, frustration melting away from her voice and replaced by a needy vulnerability. Breathiness leaking into her pleas. Dom’s expression softens at that and she unfurls her fingers—slinking them out from inside Darlene.

“Better.” She hums, slipping her fingers into her mouth and polishing the wetness off of them with her tongue. Savoring the tangy taste that clings to her skin. Dom worms her way off the bed and walks over to the nightstand—causing Darlene to sit up, her eyes tracking Dom’s movements.

“What are you doing?” Darlene asks breathlessly, her tone riddled with confusion and almost fevered. Dom pulls open the drawer of the nightstand and rummages through it, a silence hanging in the air between them. After a moment, she pulls out a rather inconspicuous black bottle with a clean design.

“Lube.” She replies simply—shutting the drawer with her hip as she pours out the liquid into the palm of her hand. “Don’t want to just go in raw.” Ever the pragmatist, Dom starts massaging the lubricant along the length of the dildo. Enjoying the sensation of the liquid slick on her palm as it glides across the soft smooth silicone. Darlene’s brows furrow quizzically, her eyes darting between the bottle now resting on the nightstand and Dom.

“Dude, how long has that been in there? You should check the expiration date on that thing.” Dom scoffs with a quick roll of her eyes.

“It’s not that old, Darlene, Jesus.” Dom returns, exasperation heavy in her tone as she caps the bottle and returns it to the drawer. Darlene quirks her eyebrows at that before collapsing back into the bed.

“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” Darlene snarks with self-satisfaction as she bends her knees up and out, so that her legs slide open. The implication is clear from her smug look. Dom can feel herself blushing, despite the fact that they both know Darlene thoroughly appreciates her so-called _excess energy._ Darlene’s hips shift, restless with anticipation as Dom returns to the mattress.

“Coming from the woman who brought a strap on to my mom’s house.” Dom gently pushes Darlene’s legs to one side—grabs a hold of her thighs and turns her so she’s lying on her stomach. Grips her hips and pulls her backside into the air so she’s level with her crotch. Darlene chuckles breathlessly, pleased with Dom’s assertiveness.

“That harness made my ass look really good after all, huh?” Darlene quips—wiggling her hips playfully. Dom doesn’t return with words, but delivers a quick stinging slap to one of her cheeks, prompting Darlene to exclaim in response. It hurts, briefly, but the sharp tingling sensation fades easily into a pleasant ache.

Dom hums faintly in satisfaction and tangles her fingers up in Darlene’s hair, gently pressing her face down into the sheets. She uses her other hand to hold the dildo steady—carefully guiding it between Darlene’s legs and easing the tip between the folds of her slit. The lubricant combined with Darlene’s wetness makes it slick and it slides in with little resistance. The sudden fullness makes Darlene groan pleasurably—the sound muffled slightly by the soft fabric of the comforter. Dom slowly winds her way inside of Darlene, inching in until the dildo is buried up to the hilt.

“This okay?” Dom murmurs. She stills her hips, giving Darlene a chance to adjust. Instead runs the blunt of her nails over Darlene’s skin, lovingly tracing the curve of her spine. Her hand trails down, following the shape of Darlene’s hips to her ass. Darlene’s skin shudders pleasantly against Dom’s touch, combining with the sensation of the smooth silicone filling her. A contented purr rumbles in the back of her throat in response. She nods, reaffirms by rocking her hips forward slightly, then back, and again. The second time, Dom meets her halfway, rocking into her with a gentle thrust.

“ _Fuck_ —” Darlene exhales a sigh, pressing her hips into Dom with more urgency. She’s been wanting this for hours—spent half of dessert losing focus to daydreams like this, her cheeks warm from the wine and the soft, hot anticipation that pooled between her thighs. Dom matches her stride so easily, builds a rhythm that hums hot along Darlene’s veins. The feeling of Dom inside her, pressing her down against the bed—it makes her head swim, dizzy with desire.

“You feel so good.” Dom purrs, voice thick with arousal. Her hand slides forward, around the curve of Darlene’s hips and up her stomach, to cup her palm against her breast. Darlene whimpers when Dom’s thumb grazes her nipple, her breath catching as Dom continues. The soft, muffled sounds of her pleasure coil need within Dom—need that she chases by fucking Darlene harder. The firm base of the dildo presses pleasurably against her clit, making her body shudder and throb with desire. She shifts her hand to Darlene’s hip, fingernails digging against her hip bone. Uses the grip of her fingers to pull Darlene into her thrust. Winds herself hard inside of her to increase the friction on her clit—a pithy groan inking out of her throat at the heightened pressure.

Her head arcs down, hair spilling forward over her shoulder and wisping against Darlene’s back. She inhales—takes a moment to collect and pace herself. Pulls back with intention and makes her next thrusts shallow and slow, intentionally angling the tip so it rubs hard against the bundle of nerves nestled above Darlene’s entrance. Enjoys watching as Darlene struggles to contain her voice and writhes against the bed. Her fingers splaying out before tightening around the disheveled sheets. Seeing her barely able to maintain control and contain her volume charges Dom with an electric kind of confidence.

“You look so good sprawled out on my bed like that.” Dom murmurs—her voice barely registering above a husky whisper. Her fingers spread out across Darlene’s thighs and dig into her flesh again as her own hips maintain a steady rhythm. The blunt of Dom’s nails burrowing into her flesh provokes a small shudder, but the sensation is overwhelmed by the electric charge Darlene receives from Dom’s praises. Darlene hums in response, lips curving into a slow smile. Dom’s breath comes to her quick and heavy—hot and palpable in the air.

“God, you make so wet, Darlene…” Her words melt into whimpers as the leather straps tug at her skin, clinging tight to her with every movement of her hips. “I swear, it’s like every little thing you do turns me on.” She exhales as she grounds herself against Darlene, enjoying how her skin feels when it’s flush against hers.

“Mmmh—I love that, babe.” Darlene sighs, waves of heightened pleasure washing over her with every angled thrust and word of praise from Dom’s lips. She lets herself drown in that ecstasy, riding the waves and pushing back into Dom’s motions to raise them higher. Her breath hitches in the back of her throat, voice ascending into a building symphony of whimpers and moans. “ _Fuck_ , Dom—” Darlene groans, drawing out the expletive as she feels herself nearing the edge. A beat later Dom rocks back and the dildo slides out—leaving Darlene with a frustrating emptiness and an unfulfilled need for release.

“Why did you stop?” She huffs, not even attempting to hide the desperation and frustration in her voice. Her body still trembling and hips rocking—angling for that absent and sorely missed friction.

Dom glides beside her on the bed and flips onto her back, sliding her hands down her body until they settle on her thighs. “I wanted to see your face when you finish.” She murmurs, gaze fixated on Darlene’s dark features, hungry with intent. The edges of her lips crook into an instinctual smile and she pats the tops of her thighs. “Come here.”

Darlene—her body still reeling from the denied gratification—is more than happy to comply. Presses her palms into the sheets and climbs over Dom, hovering above her. Dom watches with anticipation—licks her lips and swallows the arousal that swims in her system as her ashen eyes follow Darlene’s every movement. Darlene rakes a hand through the wavy locks that fall in front of her face, sweeping them back and over her shoulder. She reaches out, brushing her fingers along the raised pink scar adorning Dom’s chest. Darlene has gotten used to the sight of it—a reminder of Dom’s resilience. A reminder that she is still here—with her. She leans forward, lips grazing Dom’s skin in a gentle kiss to that tender spot. Darlene hums lovingly—her legs straddling Dom’s thighs, her hands pressing flat to the soft flesh of Dom’s stomach to steady herself. She reaches out, taking a hold of the dildo with one hand and carefully guiding it to her entrance. Eases herself down on the firm, smooth silicone—taking her sweet time to get readjusted to the feeling of fullness.

Dom releases a breathy moan at the returned pressure against her clit as Darlene slides back on top of her. That throbbing intensified by the sight of Darlene, sinking down to the hilt of the toy. The room is still, quiet—perhaps the quietest this house has ever been. Their heavy breath dripping with mutual desire reverbates along the floorboards and echoes in their ears. After a moment of stillness, of quiet, Darlene leans over. Bends forward and presses their lips together. Dom’s hands glissade along Darlene’s back—brushing along the edges of her shoulder blades before finding a place to nestle in her hair. She uses her hands to pull Darlene in closer as her hips find that steady rhythm again. The soft whimpers that escape from Darlene between their open-mouthed kisses stoke that fire inside of Dom, encouraging her to roll her hips harder up against her.

“Oh _shit,_ babe—” Darlene rasps, collapsing flush atop Dom. Her lips find a new home at the nape of Dom’s neck, where she sinks her teeth in. She works the flesh between her lips into a warm bruise that she’s sure Dom will chastise her for later—though Dom doesn’t pay any mind to it in the moment. A moan catches in the back of Dom’s throat and slithers its way out, easing into a low whimper. It’s inspirational, coaxes Darlene to continue a line of marks down the length of Dom’s neck. She muffles the sounds of her pleasure against Dom’s skin and pushes back against those steady thrusts. Sighs sweetly as she feels that tide rising again—stirring and warming her inside.

“Don’t stop, Dom...“ Darlene urges, a shudder crawling down her spine. Breath flashing hot across Dom’s skin as it comes ever quicker.

Dom loses herself in Darlene—the feel of her beneath her hands, the hunger in her voice, and every soft stifled moan. It stokes the heat between her legs, settled and throbbing at her clit, and drives her to increase her tempo—her thighs slapping hard against Darlene’s ass with each thrust.

“ _Fuck_ —“ Darlene barely suppresses a strangled cry of pleasure, the tension within her coiling hot and aching. She sinks into that feeling, rides the tendrils of ecstasy as they threaten to overwhelm her. Her muscles tighten and contract deliciously around the toy, hips jerking with the sudden jolt of pleasure. She grounds down on Dom’s strap and stifles herself against her neck, sinking her teeth into her flesh and making a firm impression of her molars across the still stinging bruises. Dom groans at the pleasurable ache—against her pulse and between her legs. Her hands ease their way over Darlene’s shoulders and she digs her nails into her back, dragging them down and carving out red marks that leave a sting in their wake.

“Dom—“ She chokes out, her spine curling to meet Dom’s sharp grip. Shudders her way around the final remnants of her climax before collapsing the remainder of her weight atop the other woman. Her breath comes heavy at first, before it eases and settles—melting away into satisfied chuckles.

“Shit, Dom… that was _good_.” She exhales, slowly sitting herself up so that she can see Dom’s face again. Her cheeks are flushed—warm, with a faint glow of sweat. Stray red locks framing her face and spilled out across the pillow. She looks both worn out and riled up—obvious from the way her eyes flicker over Darlene’s figure. Darlene crooks a smile at that and leans down, planting a kiss against her lips.

“How’re you doing, babe?” She brings her fingers to Dom’s neck, littered with marks, and brushes the tips against those tender spots. Dom melts into the touch, her eyes falling shut as she hums an approving sound of contentment.

“You’re so fucking hot, Darlene.” Dom murmurs, smile widening before she even blinks her eyes open again. The image of Darlene while they were fucking plays behind her closed eyelids, stirring the arousal that still hums beneath her skin. Her eyes meet Darlene’s a moment later, hands reaching vaguely for her hips. Fingertips brushing over her skin, her eyes following, raking over Darlene’s figure once more. “Will you take this off?” She shifts beneath Darlene, brow furrowing at the movement as the harness shifts. Her pubic bone is sore where the base of the dildo sits, a familiar sort of ache. It’s not the first time they’ve had this problem—she’ll probably have a bruise tomorrow.

“Anything else?” Darlene slides from her lap, shifts down the bed to attend to removing the harness. Tugs gently at the buckles to loosen it, then slides it down Dom’s hips. Once it’s free, she drops it onto her dress, still pooled on the floor. Flicks the fabric over top of it to conceal it. She’ll deal with cleaning up later—right now there are more important things to attend to. Her eyes raise to meet Dom’s as she bends to kiss her thigh. Dom’s breath hitches noticeably at the simple touch, and Darlene smirks. Brings her hands to the tops of Dom’s thighs, running them up the strong, smooth expanse of skin.

“ _Mmh_ …” Dom’s eyelids flutter at the touch, heat flashing in her cheeks. She nods shyly, a smile raising the corners of her lips.

“Yeah?” Darlene breathes, hot against Dom’s thigh. Dom swallows hard, her need palpable, and Darlene smiles. “Tell me.” She urges gently as she settles into a more comfortable lounging position between Dom’s thighs. She could guess, given the way that Dom is looking at her, but that’s not as fun. It _is_ Christmas, after all.

“I—“ Dom hesitates, lets out a heavy breath. She blinks down at Darlene, her eyes dark and hungry with desire. “I want you.” She hums, simple, and to the point.

“Mm, what about me?” Darlene purrs, turning her cheek toward Dom’s thigh and pressing a kiss to her skin. She drags her mouth another inch, teeth grazing Dom’s thigh before she kisses her again. A shiver runs through Dom at the touch and she bites back a whimper. Darlene looks up, and Dom’s eyes lock with hers, almost pleading.

“Your mouth.” Dom breathes, her body humming with anticipation. She sighs, her breath shuddering out as Darlene inches soft, wet kisses up her inner thigh.

“You’re so worked up.” Darlene whispers, almost in awe. Her voice is husky and soft, and tickles against Dom’s skin in a way that makes Dom shift her hips hungrily. She loves how easily Dom gets turned on, the way her skin flushes pink and warm. How responsive she is to her words, to her touch. She lifts her hand to Dom’s thigh, pushes gently. “Spread your legs for me, babe.”

Dom complies silently, her breath growing heavy with anticipation as she opens her legs wider. Makes a space for Darlene between her thighs. She’s already flushed and slick from how long she has been kept waiting. Darlene’s playful smirk softens endearingly at the sight. She reaches out and brushes her fingers along her folds—keeps her gaze fixed on Dom so she can revel in her expression as it twists into pleasure. Dom’s eyes flutter open after a sigh, her brow furrowing with pent up desire and impatience. Darlene brings her lips close to Dom’s center—tantalizingly close, but not quite touching. Dom shudders with anticipation and her hips roll up to meet Darlene’s mouth. She hums at that and jerks her head back to retreat from the movement.

“Darlene—“ Dom groans needily, her breath escaping in a frustrated huff.

“Be a good girl and say please.”

“ _Please_ —“ Dom relents easily, desperation leaking into her voice. Hearing her like that forces a shiver down Darlene’s spine. She licks her lips in anticipation. Runs her tongue between Dom’s folds and up to her clit, enjoying the way that her stubble pricks at her tongue. Dom melts at the first touch, her hips rising to meet the warmth of Darlene’s mouth. The pleasurable sensation provides a welcome distraction from the ache at her center. Dom sighs, exhales deeply and sinks into the mattress as Darlene attends to her throbbing clit. Her hands ease down her body and her fingers comb through Darlene’s hair, sweeping it back from her face. There’s a primal urge for her hips to roll back up, but they’ve grown sore from her work on Darlene. She whimpers, giving in despite it and grinding up against Darlene’s mouth. Darlene smiles against Dom—pleased with how transparent she is about her needs. Her tongue flicks hard against her clit before rolling it out in slow circles. She leans up onto her elbows to take in Dom’s expression—bask in it. Rolls her lower lip under her teeth and tastes Dom’s wetness.

Her instinct is to play off of Dom’s flustered neediness. Ask her how badly she wants her mouth back against her. But looking at her, sprawled out across the sheets, flushed with a warm glow and her hair a slightly tangled mess, all she can manage is—

“You’re beautiful.” Darlene murmurs, just above a husky whisper. Allows the sentiment to hang in the air for a moment—enough to catch the way Dom’s expression softens. Quiet and tender before she glides back down to her comfortable lounging spot between Dom’s legs. Returns her mouth to that tangy slickness—sliding along the length of her folds. Trails up to her clit and tends to it lovingly. Soft and sloppy with long licks that draw wetness down her chin. Dom’s head lolls back and a content purr rumbles in the back of her throat. Twists into a whimper as her hips writhe against Darlene’s motions. She catches the moan that threatens to escape against her better judgment—swallows it down. But another one follows as she drowns herself in the sensation of Darlene’s tongue working her into a fervor.

“Shit—Darlene… _Mmmhh_ —“ Her fingers burrow into Darlene’s hair and coax her on. “Fuck, that’s so good…” Dom shudders—her eyes fluttering shut to narrow in on the waves of pleasure that radiate out to her limbs. “ _You’re_ so good.“ She adds after a beat. Darlene hums against her skin, satisfaction radiating beneath her skin at the litany of praises following from Dom’s mouth.

“Yeah?” Darlene breathes as she parts from Dom’s core for a brief moment. Reconnects and snakes one of her arms out from under her shoulder. Glides two fingers along Dom’s folds—sliding through the wetness before winding their way inside of her. Dom whimpers pithily at the entrance, shifting to help guide her fingers to where they need to be.

“Jesus H—“ She whines as Darlene’s fingers curl inside of her—her toes mimicking the motion. “You know just what to do…” Dom’s voice melts into the pleasure and she grounds herself back into the present by raking her nails through those messy locks. Her hips rock—sinking down onto Darlene’s steady fingers, into that perfect angle, and she fails to suppress the groan that rattles in her throat. Darlene smirks and pulls herself away. She places her lips to Dom’s inner thigh and sinks her teeth in to leave an imprint that matches one of the many on her own thigh.

Dom jolts—exclaims instinctively before reeling back into the bed. Darlene knows that Dom likes to mix her pleasure and pain—but still. She’s making a point. “You’re going to wake up uncle Austin if you’re that loud.” Darlene quips playfully, that dry wit leaking into her voice. She places a tender kiss over the teeth marks as the sharp pain settles into a pleasant dull sting. Dom’s breath mellows back into its regular rhythm—her hungry gaze falling back to the brunette sprawled out between her thighs.

“I can’t help it—not with what you’re doing…” Dom exhales. Her legs shudder against the sheets with a mix of anticipation and sorely needed gratification. She whimpers, fingers coiling to fend off her instinct to draw her hands to her own clit. “Darlene— _please_ —“

Darlene smiles, that buzz of smug satisfaction mingling with the near overwhelming affection she holds for Dom. Seeing her like this—eyes half-lidded and hungry, flushed, disheveled, and so eager for her touch—drives a dizzying warmth through Darlene. She channels that energy back into tending to Dom, now itching to see her reach an apex of pleasure. To give her exactly what she needs—what she deserves.

“You’re so fucking cute.” She whispers, and presses her mouth flush to Dom as the heady scent of her fills her lungs. She sighs contentedly, her tongue running circles around that aching throbbing clit. Her fingers still buried inside of her—maintaining a practiced, steady rhythm. Every flick of her digits and lick of her tongue drawing Dom’s breath back. Thick and heavy like ocean tides. Her chest swelling and hips crashing down against Darlene’s mouth with each exhale.

“Yes, _shit_ —just like that—“ Dom whimpers—starting up her adorable habit of rambling mindlessly. Darlene laps up each word of praise that slips from those lips. Uses them as kindling to fuel the fire that radiates at the tips of her fingers and swims on her tongue. Dom’s skin shudders as her pleasure starts to reach those desirable peaks. Her hands settle on the back of Darlene’s head and use her as leverage to gain extra friction, pulling her in close.

Darlene can tell when her climax starts—Dom’s muscles clenching and tightening around her fingers in waves. Soft whimpers that melt into pleasurable sighs and moans fill the room and swim in Darlene’s ears. Reverberating around her head and cascading a phantom warmth along her spine. She leans into Dom’s movements, the twist and roll of her pelvis, and furls her fingers against that rough bundle of nerves near her entrance. Wholly determined to tease every morsel of pleasure out of Dom. A curse shudders out from between Dom’s lips with Darlene’s name in quick pursuit. Her shoulders press into the mattress and her back mirrors the motion—arching off of the sheets. Fingernails burrow against Darlene’s scalp as Dom grinds the last of her orgasm against her mouth. Her grip is like a vise and a dull ache throbs throughout Darlene’s jaw. But she’s more than determined to stick it through to completion—and she does. Dom’s body giving its final shudders before her muscles are finally given release—sinking into the bed.

Dom allows her breath to come back—heavy and quick at first before settling into something steady and sated. The remnants of pleasure still rolling off her tongue like honey in the form of soft contented moans. She brings her hands up to her head and rakes her locks out of her face. Wipes the sheen off her forehead with the back of her hand.

“Are you okay?” Dom exhales, an aroused tremble underlying her words as she pushes herself up by her elbows. Darlene chuckles breathily and sits herself up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Mmhmm. I’m _all_ good, girl scout.” Darlene drawls playfully. The familiar pet name is as endearing as it is sometimes annoying. She stretches forward, arching her back as she slips into the space beside Dom on the bed. Ensures she’s half-draped over her—the warmth of Dom’s bare skin against her own provoking a contented sigh. “Besides, I heard lockjaw is in now.” She tilts her head, her lips raising into a smirk. Her fingers gently massaging her jaw if only to further tease Dom.

Dom rolls her eyes, slides her hand around the back of Darlene’s neck to tug her into a kiss. “Come here.” It’s soft, chaste. Darlene can feel the affection and warmth behind it just as much as Dom can taste herself on Darlene’s lips. They part and Dom plants a second kiss to her forehead. Her fingers run lightly through Darlene’s locks and pull her into the crook of her shoulder.

“So, did you like your present?” Darlene purrs—her fingers trailing soft against Dom’s neck. Forming constellations as she draws lines between purple and blue bruises. Admiring her handiwork. Dom hums pleasantly at the touch, basks in it for a long moment before worming her arm out from behind Darlene’s neck.

“I definitely did.” She hums—sitting herself up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “Could have done without all the hickies though.” The corner of her mouth lifting into a smirk as she glances over her shoulder to give Darlene a playful if not slightly chastising glance. Darlene quirks her brows at that, rolls over onto her side, and sets her cheek in the palm of her hand. Content to admire Dom’s back. Watches her defined shoulders and arms as they move.

“I didn’t hear any complaints earlier.” Darlene retorts, and Dom chuckles, shoulders rising into a shrug. She leans forward to retrieve her discarded clothing from where it landed, tugging the t-shirt over her head first. Follows with her underwear, wriggling it the rest of the way up her sore hips as she settles back into bed beside Darlene.

“I wasn’t complaining.” Dom deadpans, barely containing the smirk behind her tone.

“Yes you were!” Darlene scoffs, playfully nudging her as Dom shuffles under the covers to get more comfortable. Her lips curl into a pleasant smile as she leans in close and plants a kiss to her neck. “So you wouldn’t mind if I gave you more then?” Dom hums—melts into the sensation for a moment—before easing away.

“I’m already going to have to waste so much concealer covering this up tomorrow.” Dom tilts her head, brows raising into a soft but stern expression. “Besides, aren’t you tired?” She asks, shifting and sinking further into the mattress. “I’m exhausted—and I didn’t have to entertain my nephews all afternoon.” An exhale slips into a contented hum as she tangles her legs with Darlene’s. The sensation of Darlene’s bare skin against her own washes over her, warm and comforting. Darlene reaches out and runs her fingertips along Dom’s thigh.

“Well, it’s not like you didn’t put in a lot of work somewhere else.” Darlene purrs, trailing her fingers up to Dom’s hips. She quirks her lips into a quick smile before settling back into the bed. “Fucked all the energy right out of me.” Her arms raise over her head in a long stretch which she accents with a soft hum. Her muscles quiver—remnants of pleasure still circulating through her system. She gives a short dry chuckle as she eases into the bed, curling into Dom’s side. “I’m going to get some _killer_ sleep tonight after all that.”

Dom laughs, breathy and quiet. She slips her arm around Darlene instinctively as she nestles into the crook of Dom’s shoulder. Cards her fingers through Darlene’s hair and against her scalp, enjoying the contented sigh that provokes in the other woman. Her eyes drift from Darlene to the bedside table, and land on the book she brought along—reminding her that she only had a few pages left in the chapter she was reading.

“You mind if I read a little?” She murmurs, and Darlene shifts to peek up at her. Shakes her head, the hint of a smile softening her gaze.

Darlene takes note of the title— _Death by the Arno—_ as Dom stretches to retrieve the book and her thick-framed glasses, then settles back into place. She’s been on a murder mystery kick and usually settles on shitty books she finds on the aisle endcaps at grocery stores. Darlene doesn’t entirely understand why she feels the need to read about murder mysteries when it’s her actual job. Isn’t the point of reading to escape from reality? But she can’t restrain the grin that stretches across her face whenever Dom scoffs and rambles on about the inaccuracies of these books.

She likes the ones about serial killers the most, Darlene has observed. One month they just marathoned documentaries about serial killers. Dom noted that she finds them fascinating. “ _Dude—that’s kind of fucked up._ ” She had commented, before she hummed and crooned her head, and added. “ _But I guess I’m fucked up too, so—_ ”

Her fingers roam along Dom’s bicep—tracing out the edges and lines of her tattoos. The blue in her eyes eclipsed by black as she contemplates each of the images. She brushes her fingertips along the scales of an ouroboros. A circle of life and death and rebirth. Darlene wonders when Dom got this tattoo. Does it have any specific meaning to her? Beyond being attractive, her tattoos amplify those multifaceted dimensions of Dom that she finds so fascinating, so appealing. Varsity jackets, old high school crushes, a switchblade tucked away and forgotten. Pieces of a puzzle that Darlene tries to arrange into the image of the woman lying beside her.

Her eyes flit upward, dancing along the tattoos wrapped around Dom’s bicep and trailing up to her face. Her expression is soft, warmed pleasantly by the gentle light of the table lamp. She looks so at peace—if not a little dorky in her glasses. Her eyes flitting back and forth across the pages, engrossed in her novel. Seeing Dom so at ease—while so normal to her now—poses a stark contrast to last Christmas. Thinking back to her time spent working with Dom as a CHS, Dom looks so much… lighter. Trudie’s sentiments from earlier in the evening hum in her chest and fill her with a sense of fondness.

Darlene returns her gaze back out across the room—her eyes catching on a plastic faux wreath that Trudie must’ve dangled atop the doorknob. Just another reminder that it’s Christmas. And she’s with her girlfriend and her family, warm and safe in her childhood bedroom. That unfamiliar feeling returns to the pit of her stomach—a sort of nostalgia, echoes of emotion that she’d nearly forgotten. Bittersweet and warm all at once, and it makes her think back, wondering when she last had such a perfectly picturesque Christmas.

“Hey.” Darlene’s voice is gentle as it cracks through the quiet. Dom blinks up from the pages of her novel—that soft tone pulling her focus away.

“Yeah?” Dom replies, perhaps just as tenderly. Their gazes meet—steady and silent—for a long moment. The black of Darlene’s pupil shrinks as the light from the table lamp hits it. Dances across Dom’s face before settling on her eyes. And then those pupils expand like droplets of thick black ink splattered on parchment. Whatever tension was left on her face has melted away and all that remains is utter fondness. Her lips open, as if to speak, but no sound comes out. Her lower lip quivers—just once—before they seal again. The gaze is broken as her eyes dart around, suddenly unable to find a place to settle. She’s thinking, and Dom waits patiently for her to find the words.

“You know—when I was a kid, me and Elliot would sneak out to Angela’s for Christmas Eve.” She begins—a myriad of expressions flashing across her face, too quick for Dom to pin down. It shifts, soft and tender—inking into a smile—and then her brow furrows with somber recollection. “At least, while her mom was still alive.” She shakes her head. “I was so young I barely remember, but—I remember what it felt like.” Darlene’s eyes flash up to meet Dom’s, that tender patient gaze easing the tension of the past from her body. “Being here… just reminds me of that. I guess this is my long-winded way of saying I’m happy you invited me.” Not that Dom would have spent Christmas without her—or that it was any struggle to get Darlene to come. “Being around family again, doing holiday stuff, it’s…” There’s a pause. “Nice.”

“It’s a lot nicer with you here,” Dom adds softly. Not intending to interrupt, but echoing the sentiment. The edges of Darlene’s lips raise at the remark. Warmth courses under her skin—a different kind of heat than before—and makes her feel light, almost euphoric. Her fingers roam out, aimless at first but find a home on the top of Dom’s leg. Curve in towards that soft familiar spot inside of her thigh.

“Being with you and your family, somehow—“ Darlene inhales, not quite a sigh, but her breath is still heavy with the weight of the sentiment. “It makes me feel, just, normal. But also kind of special.” She chuckles dryly, shaking her head. “Bet that doesn’t make any fucking sense.” Dom smiles, her eyes wrinkling with affection. She bends the corner of the page she was reading and folds the book shut, setting it off to the side. Leans over and presses her lips to Darlene’s—warm and chaste. Holds the kiss for a moment before pulling back, tender affection swimming in her eyes.

“You’d be surprised how much sense you make to me, Darlene.” Darlene titters in response and runs her lower lip between her teeth as her gaze drifts off. Her focus eclipsing around the cover of the novel in Dom’s lap as she spaces out. Recollection and bittersweet nostalgia flickering behind those dark eyes—of past words exchanged between them. Darlene shakes her head—pulling herself back above water. Her fingers extend out and brush along Dom’s jawline, eyes alert when they connect with hers again.

“After everything that’s happened, I don’t think there’s much you could do that would surprise me, DiPierro.” She purrs, head tilting as she admires her soft features. Dom scoffs lightheartedly at that and quirks her brows.

“Oh yeah?” She asks—her tone almost a dare.

“Yeah.” Darlene echoes back, egging Dom on as a welcome warmth floods her chest.

“What about your Christmas present—” Dom starts, her words trailing off as her fingers shift under the covers and graze along Darlene’s bare leg. “—you looked pretty surprised to me.” She purrs, her touch easing across the sensitive flesh of her thigh and roaming dangerously close to her center.

“Hm—“ Darlene drags her teeth against her lower lip, heat flaring within her as Dom’s touch continues to wander. Her eyes narrow defiantly, even though she knows Dom is right.

“No?” Dom cocks her head at Darlene’s defiance and her eyes narrow with the hint of a smile. She slides her fingers against her center in a gentle stroke, satisfied by the hitch her touch generates in Darlene’s throat. “Is it so hard for you to admit that I’m right?” She pushes back—her lips gliding into the nape of Darlene’s neck to plant tender kisses.

“I—” Darlene is interrupted by a soft knock at the door, and then a pause. Dom freezes for a second before she retracts to the safety of the covers. She looks flustered and annoyed all at once, as if the disturbance isn’t all that unexpected.

“Yeah?” Darlene asks hesitantly, doing her best to diffuse the arousal that threatens to leak into her voice, and tugs the blankets up against her bare chest.

“I just finished the last batch of cannolis, do you girls want a midnight snack while they’re fresh?” Trudie’s voice rings out from behind the door, quieter now since she doesn’t have to raise her voice over a sea of DiPierros chattering.

“ _Cannoli_ —“ Darlene nearly gasps. Her eyes flick to meet Dom’s. If Trudie’s cheesecake is any indication of how good the cannolis will be, then Darlene doesn’t want to miss them. “Babe, don’t you want some?”

The door creaks open a few inches, and Trudie leans into the gap with a small plate.

“ _Ma!_ Jesus H., could you knock?!” Dom huffs, sinking further into the bed.

“I did, hon. Trust me, as long as you two are finished, there’s nothing here I haven’t seen before. Besides I can’t leave this in the hall, Judy might get to it.”

“ _Oh my god_ —“ Dom goes red and pulls the blankets up higher around her neck, despite the fact that she had already pulled on her shirt. “Just leave it, mom.”

“Thank you, Trudie.” Darlene singsongs, unfazed by the interruption, much to Dom’s chagrin.

“Of course, doll. Now listen, make sure you two use the bathroom, alright? You don’t want to wake up with a UTI tomorrow. Dom, you know how easily you get those.” Darlene’s face is beaming—thoroughly impressed and entertained by how flustered and riled up Dom is getting. It’s endearing, if not a little funny. Dom’s fingers readjust her white-knuckle grip on the covers, determined to keep them raised.

“ _Thank you_ , mom. Good night.” Dom stresses—at this point desperate for the embarrassment to end. Trudie hums, her face lighting up with a pleased smirk.

“Okay, okay, I know when it’s time for me to leave. But Dom, hon, if you two girls are going to keep having fun you might want to keep it down a little. You might wake up Sheila and heavens knows I’ll never hear the end of it, and neither will you.” Dom rolls her eyes, but Darlene can tell she’s affected. Heat flashes across her cheeks and she swallows thickly, her scathing gaze suddenly avoidant.

Trudie’s contentment is palpable, if not overwhelming. It triggers a memory from the recesses of Darlene’s mind, powerful and poignant— _she’s desperate for you to find somebody_. Darlene softens entirely with realization. How long had Trudie been hoping for moments exactly like these? Where she could bicker playfully with Dom and tease her about her partner, stay up late baking Italian goods, and delivering platters of pastries. The realization washes over her face and a moment later she eases back into a tender, sentimental smile.

“Goodnight, Trudie. Thanks again for the cannolis.” Darlene hums, nothing but genuine gratitude in her tone. Trudie nods gently and sets the plate down on the chair near the entrance before slinking back out—pulling the door shut behind her. Dom collapses into the bed and sighs heavily, releasing her grip on the sheets.

“I swear, my family is inescapable…” She huffs, closing her eyes against the annoyance. Darlene settles back beside her, rolling onto her side so she’s facing Dom.

“Yeah, they’re kind of a lot.” Darlene concurs, humming her way into an addition. “But, I like that. The chaos of it all. And the love.” She reaches out and intertwines her fingers with Dom’s, enjoying the gentle warmth that radiates between their skin. She swallows—contemplating whether to verbalize the sentiment buzzing at the tip of her tongue. “I’m happy I got to meet the family you worked so hard to protect.” Dom softens, emotion swelling in her expression. A concoction of recollection and pain, and relief.

“Me too.” Dom murmurs, her voice low and riddled with emotion. As if she spoke any louder she might begin to weep. But she swallows the surge of emotions, settling back into an easy, comfortable softness. Darlene scoots closer to Dom, intertwines their legs again, and rests a hand against the small of Dom’s back. There’s a still in the room—a comfortable silence—as the two finally wind down.

“The gardenias—” Dom starts, pausing for a moment—as if she’s reconsidering whether or not she should have brought it up. “Mom really liked them.” An inkling of a smile crawls across her face and lightens her features. “They’re her favorites. She used to stick them everywhere during the summer.”

“Sounds nice.” Darlene hums in response, gentle and content.

“It was—until they wilted, and they always did. They would sit around the house for weeks before she finally threw them out.” Dom chuckles, giving the faintest shake of her head. “What made you decide to bring them?”

“I texted Trudie.“ Darlene murmurs, tracing her fingers absently against Dom’s skin. “I wanted to bring something, since it’s Christmas and all, but… family holidays aren’t exactly my specialty.”

“You text each other?” Surprise flickers across Dom’s expression.

“Sometimes, yeah.” Darlene smiles fondly, recollecting the first time Trudie had reached out unprecedented. Unsurprisingly, it was to ask a simple computer question, but Darlene didn’t even mind. “Anyway, she suggested flowers. I thought roses would be too weird, and then I remembered she mentioned gardenias once when I was here. Lucky guess?” Dom hums thoughtfully—her gaze spacing out over the expanse of the ceiling.

“I don’t think luck has much to do with it.” She turns her head back towards Darlene, gaze soft and affectionate. “You’re smart, Darlene. More smart and intuitive than you give yourself credit for.”

“ _You’re_ smart.” Darlene hums playfully, easing close to press a kiss to Dom’s lips. “And intuitive.” She murmurs, and kisses her again. Rolls Dom onto her back so she can straddle her waist, her hands slipping beneath the hem of Dom’s t-shirt. “And sexy.” Darlene lists back against Dom's mouth with eager kisses—her hands roaming her ribcage and brushing along the underside of her breasts, and Dom hums appreciatively. “And—“ Darlene sits herself up, settling her weight against Dom’s hips. Her eyes flicker over Dom’s face. “You were right. Okay?” Dom’s features soften with Darlene’s earnestness.

“Right about what?” She murmurs back, her breath heavy from Darlene revving her up all over again. So easily affected by her charms.

“You still got a few surprises left in you.” Darlene hums playfully—her fingers brushing along the raised scar on Dom’s chest. Dom wraps her arms around Darlene’s hips, enjoying their warm mutual gaze.

“Well, I can’t have you getting tired of me.” Dom retorts with a soft tilt of her head. Darlene chuckles dryly and shakes her head in reply.

“I could never get sick of you.” She hums, leaning forward and resting her head in the crook of Dom’s neck. The reality of the statement settles over her with a comfortable weight—a sentiment so foreign to her until Dom. The gentle warmth that radiates between them and the feeling of safety and security Dom offers seeps into the quiet in the room, enveloping Darlene in a contented glow. She lies there for a few moments, basking in the sensation of Dom’s arms wrapped around her. A strong thrum of ardor humming throughout her chest for the beautiful woman cradling her.

“You know—” Darlene starts, after a bout of silence. “—I could actually really go for a cannoli right about now.” Dom chuckles, her hands sliding across Darlene’s thighs.

“Best cannoli in the tri-state area.” Dom proclaims, her smile widening with pride.

“I _really_ hope you’re right about that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much to deeeep for working on this collaborative fanfic with me!!! it was an absolute joy to watch!


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